


Sherm and Millie

by mysticalmarigold



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Pottervember, Writing Challenges, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-23 08:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticalmarigold/pseuds/mysticalmarigold
Summary: a collection of drabble i have written for pottervember!
Relationships: Mildred Potter/Sherman Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. the first sunday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justalittlegreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/gifts).

> for greenie, thank you so much for your encouragement and for reminding me to publish this. <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s sherman’s first sunday home from korea, and life goes on

”C’mon now, doll. Give me one big push...” Sherman gently urged the young woman, gesturing for the new dad in the room to wipe his wife’s forehead. 

It was Sherman’s first Sunday morning back in the states, the sun beginning to peek out from behind the horizon, and Sherman wouldn’t have it any other way. This child was about to make his entrance into the world. 

“One more, Annabelle. You can do it, get this little son-of-a-gun out!”

With a great push and groan, Sherman held the little boy in his arms and took in the wonderful sound of his wailing as he rubbed him semi-clean with a towel. He had arrived, healthy and whole, not a scratch on him. He was, in a word, perfect. 

They’d named him Harry and sent Sherm home in the early morning light with their endless thanks for helping on such short notice and as much raspberry jam as he could carry. Mildred’s favorite. 

When the front door creaked as it opened, Sherman cringed slightly, slowing his movements as to not disturb Mildred’s beauty sleep. There was no point in trying to go back to bed; the sun was nearly out and he’d already begun to work, so he wouldn’t sleep anyways. A little breakfast seemed to be in order. 

When one pan made a particularly loud clatter, Sherman prepared himself for the 5’2” terror that was Mildred Potter without her 10 hours of beauty sleep. 

“Sherman T. Potter, what on Earth are you doing out of bed? It is before oh seven hundred hours, and I expected to roll over and see my Colonel for the first time in what feels like a lifetime.”

Sherman had to smile bashfully at the comment as he transferred the eggs he was making to a plate. Mildred smiled at the table for two that he had carefully laid out for them. 

“Oh, you silly old coot.”

“I was out meeting Harry.” he said, pulling out her chair and leading her to her seat where there was toast and jam waiting. 

“Harry? Who’s Harry?”

Sherman sat with that smug look on his face, tucking his napkin into his shirt. 

“Sherman,” Mildred warned sternly. If they were going to age, so be it, but they would not become those old folks that tucked their napkins into their shirts and only ate hot cereal for breakfast every morning. He pulled the napkin out of his shirt and placed it into his lap. 

“Oh, you know Harry. Annabelle and Peter’s little boy.”

Mildred’s face absolutely lit up as the realization dawned on her. 

“The baby? She had the baby? Oh Sherman, you never did know how to give yourself the day off!”

As they ate, Mildred planned on what she needed to put together to bring the new parents when herself and Sherman visited later that day. Oh, well, they must need a good meal and maybe some coffee, she’s certainly got a blanket laying around somewhere (she was a nervous knitter), and what would they do about letting Annabelle get some sleep? Did Sherman think Harry would latch okay?

And with that, the wind blew and the birds sang. All was well in their little section of Hannibal, just like nothing had ever changed.


	2. let me call you sweetheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sherman writes a holiday letter

_Dear Mildred,_

_It’s November fourth now, and the air is only getting colder. We’ve frozen over by the time you get this. I always miss you this time of year, especially your sweet potato pie. The closest thing we’ve got are mud pies and canned yams, but one isn’t more appetizing than the other. Oh, Millie. Korea is cold and the wind is unforgiving, but every time I think of you, I’m reminded how lucky I am you’re mine. This war can’t be over soon enough so I can finally hold you again and we can eat pie and sit on the porch like the old coots we are. _

_Remember that old song, “Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you,”? Doo doo doo doo doo. _

_Do me a favor, go and check in with Annabelle. I worry about her. _

_All my love, dearest,_

_Sherm_

Mildred shivered slightly in the cold morning air as she climbed into the Studebaker and fired it up, pulling out onto the dusty road. What Annabelle needed, she had no idea, but she trusted Sherman. 

Politely, she knocked on the door of the little white house and folded her hands. The door almost immediately swung open and she was pulled into the house by a bright, blonde little woman. Oh, sweet Annabelle. She’d known her since Bella was a baby, her mother being a dear church friend of both Sherman and herself. What a lovely woman she’d turned out to be. 

“Mrs. Potter!” she greeted, beaming from ear to ear. “Oh, do come sit down! Let me warm up some cider, have you had anything to eat today?”

“Cider is just fine, dear, thank you.” Mildred hummed as she sat down at the kitchen table and removed her coat. The same little house was cheery and bright, a little construction going on in the back. In fact, Annabelle had a little paint on her nose and hands. 

“Annabelle, are you doing some remodeling?” Mildred finally asked after a few minutes of polite conversation, a steaming cup of apple cider sat before her.

“Oh, well...” Annabelle blushed at the question, placing a hand on her stomach. “I know I shouldn’t tell so early on, but Mrs. Potter...we’re expecting!”

Mildred found herself with the same smile she’d been greeted with at the door plastered on her face. 

“My goodness, Annabelle Claire!”

After a lengthy discussion about babies and cribs and bassinets and colic and coughs, Annabelle’s face dropped and her mouth fell open. 

“Oh, Mrs. Potter, I forgot! I completely forgot! If you’ll excuse me!”

Quick as a whip, she skittered out of the kitchen and left Mildred wondering what on Earth could be so important. 

A little box, wrapped in paper with a red ribbon, was placed in front of her. Annabelle nodded for her to open it, but Mildred wanted to read the tag first. 

_“To Millie, from Sherm. Merry Christmas.”_

Inside the wrapping was the most delicately carved music box made of cherrywood. As she turned the handle, a tinkling little song began to play. Tears sprung into her eyes as she placed a hand over her mouth. 

_“Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.”_


	3. storytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sherman tells a story and gets something off his chest.

”Did you get there in time, Mister Sherm?” Annabelle asked, bouncing in her chair. 

Sherman paused for a moment, having lost track of his story. It had been about 23 years since that night in 1917. Their château had come under heavy fire, and Ryan had gotten the worst of it. He kneeled, just feet away from Sherman, bleeding. His hand was clutched over his stomach from where he’d been shot. The rest of the men, four in all, were laying on the floor on their bellies. 

He cringed at the fire of bullets, screwing up his face until he could not see anything but the darkness of his shut eyes. He tried to drown out Ryan’s groans, the gunfire, the shattering glass, his heartbeat in his ears, but it was all too much. 

When the room fell deadly silent, he couldn’t move. 

His stomach turned. He wasn’t proud of it, but after a minute of being frozen solid with fear, he turned and retched in the corner. 

“Potter!” someone yelled, but he didn’t respond. “Sherm, we need help! He’s not gonna make it!” 

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out._

As he turned to finally help, the outside of his vision went all fuzzy. It was like someone had thrown him into a blizzard, but the snow was black. He fell to the floor. 

“I, ah...I think we better save this story for the rest of the night. Annabelle, will you take your brother to go wash up and brush your teeth? I’ll go get your mother to tuck you both in.”

Annabelle nodded. She was not a particularly argumentative child, and was inclined to do as she was told. She pressed a peck to Sherman’s cheek and ran off to bed. He smiled and moved from his seat by the fireplace through the open doorway into the kitchen where Mildred stood, drying dishes. She was the perfect guest and always insisted on helping with the dishes. Annabelle’s mother, Penny, was off putting her youngest son to bed. 

Sherman sat at the kitchen table and Mildred immediately knew something was off. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, very matter-of-factly. Setting the dishes down, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and sat down next to him. 

“I was telling Annabelle a story, and I got a bit carried away. I—I think I forgot how the story ended. Ryan’s story.”

“Oh, Sherman...” Mildred said softly, taking his hand. He was shaking like a leaf. It absolutely broke her heart. 

Silently, he reached over and hugged her, burying his head in her neck and letting himself feel a few tears burn his eyes and fall down his face, soaking into the collar of her dress. She rubbed his back and placed a hand in his hair, letting him cry. She knew the loss of his friend still hurt him deeply, even when he didn’t verbalize it. 

“It’s alright, Sherman. Let it out. You did all you could.”

He felt it wasn’t true, but she knew it to be fact. Sherman would always beat himself down for not being the perfect doctor, friend, father, husband. In actuality, he was damn good enough. He would never realize that, and Mildred had decided long ago to never stop reminding him. 

“You did all you could, Sherman. That’s all anyone can ask of you.”


	4. tokyo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sherman and mildred meet again in tokyo

“Now boarding flight 451 to Tokyo from Honolulu. Flight 451.” the cheery voice over the intercom had repeated for the fourth time now. Mildred rolled her eyes and adjusted her sweater as she followed a line of people onto the airplane. It was far, far too early to be that chipper. 

She didn’t particularly like flying, but she especially disliked how much smoke could fill up a cabin. It gave her a headache, and she knew well that she’d be sitting with smokers for the next nine hours. 

Nasty habit, she never did get into it. 

Mildred could already feel a headache building as she sat down in her seat and buckled herself in, one of the last to board in coach. The highlight of her flight was a crying baby. She could empathize with the mother and held no resentment, of course, but it didn’t make the wailing any more tolerable. That, and soft peanuts. 

After she landed, it was at least an hour’s wait until she could get her luggage from baggage claim, and another hour before she could catch a trolly to even get _close_ to their hotel. Then, it was a fifteen minute walk, thirty minutes at the front desk before they’d let her check in, and five more minutes waiting for a free bellhop. By the time she was standing in front of her room, key in hand, she was bone tired. Tired enough to walk inside, tip the bellhop, and fall dead asleep on the bed. 

She had originally intended to only sleep for a few minutes before getting ready for dinner and a night on the town like Sherman had insisted they do. Instead, it ended up being a few good hours. 

Sherman set his bag down and took off his hat, gazing at the woman in the bed. Her hair was tousled and her lipstick had mostly faded, except for a small amount smeared on her chin. One of her shoes had fallen off and she’d drooled on the pillow. 

He smiled. 

He’d missed her snorting laugh when she really got going and her sense of adventure, but he didn’t realize he’d also missed the quiet bits. The way she’d turn around in bed and place a hand on his chest, pulling him closer to herself in her sleep. The little mumbled _I-love-you’s_ that she managed to get out on Saturdays when he woke early to do some yard work. It was her presence in a bed that could feel so empty without her. 

Silently, Sherman pulled the comforter out from under her and placed it on top of her, kicking his own shoes off and crawling into the bed with her in full uniform. It didn’t matter if it would wrinkle. 

She sleepily turned to him and placed her head on his chest, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. She didn’t stir, didn’t wake, and Sherman was glad. 

A few moments later, he fell asleep as well, abandoning all plans for the rest of the trip. This was better than anything he could’ve planned.


	5. lace and pink ribbons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sherman meets a new member of the family.

“Good morning, Mama!” Sherman whispered as he entered the room, followed closely by Mildred and Evelyn. 

Annabelle smiled weakly, reaching out for a hug from each family member. Evelyn pushed herself to the front of the line and embraced Annabelle. 

“Tinker Bell, you are positively glowing!” she gushed, squeezing the woman tightly. Annabelle let out a little giggle at the nickname she’d had since childhood and pushed her hair behind her ear. The nickname was now delightfully fitting, seeing as she’d found her other half in a man named Peter. 

“You don’t mean that. Really, I think the glow you’re seeing is sweat,” Annabelle teased as Mildred moved in to wrap her in a hug. 

“I’m certainly glad you managed to get to a hospital this time! I don’t know if Sherman would’ve woken up when the phone rang if you had needed him. Lately he’s been sleeping with earplugs in!”

Sherman grumbled something about the sound of the old aluminum fan in their bedroom keeping him up all night. 

“Tinker Bell, you must be starving. You and Peter both! How about I run down and see what I can scrounge up for you all...where is he, anyways?” Evelyn asked, gathering up her purse to run downstairs to the cafeteria. 

“Oh, Peter’s at home with Harry. I bet he could use some food, but this hospital chow won’t be of any use to him. I would appreciate some breakfast, if you don’t mind.”

Evelyn nodded and began downstairs, followed by Mildred collecting her coat. 

“I’m going to go check on Peter and Harry. Goodness knows what the two of them can get up to, and I bet they need to eat a real meal.”

With the finality of Mildred Potter, she left the room in a hurry and left silence in her wake. Sherman eased himself into the horridly uncomfortable hospital chair next to the bassinet by the bed. 

“Go ahead and pick her up, Sherm. She hasn’t cried all morning.” Annabelle whispered, so as to not break the silence and wake the sleeping child. Sherman nodded and lifted her up, nestling her into the nook of his arm and smiling down at the baby. He hummed a soft song to her, something to the tune of “Gee Ma, I Wanna Go Home!” before noticing her stirring in his arms. 

“She’s an angel,” he mumbled as she opened up big brown eyes and gazed at him in sheer wonder. “Beautiful eyes.” 

“Is that your Papa Sherman, Wendy? Is that him?” Annabelle cooed, leaning over the side of the bed and grinning. Sherman turned to look at her, the same wonder now in his eyes. 

“What? I decided the kids needed something to call you before Harry started talking in full sentences, and Papa Sherman fit. Of course, as long as that’s alright with you.”

Sherman placed a kiss on Annabelle’s forehead and pressed another onto Wendy’s, trying to hold back his tears. 

“It’s perfect. She’s perfect.”


End file.
